Growing Ill

I want to cut out all my feelings,

Start over from the beginning

Of myself.

And I'm foaming at the mouth,

But not at you and I don't know how

To escape the walls of this burning house.

It's not your fault I break every Strand of trust you have in me,

I'm the axe in your cherry tree

And I won't lie about it.

The wounds I knit,

Stop telling me I don't feed you poison apples.

The frozen proof is in these bloody hands,

Snaplocked tight in jaw bands.

Cutting the mouth that feeds me life.

Cutting you out with a sharpened knife

And I'm not sure what created this strife

To fall over and under you

As if your feelings don't exist at all

In this red sea we saw

At the last sunset before the dawn.

Don't tell me it was dark all along,

I already knew I was a silent song,

Whispered under the breathe so lightly the hyme is dead.

But that's just it.

Isn't it?

Author's Note

A copypasta over from my DeviantArt. http://dindellathedefender.deviantart.com/art/Growing-Ill-539431632 I wrote this during an overwhelming episode sooomme time ago now, but don't worry I'm fine. I didn't do anything stupid. Just a lot of anger and tears and a weird culmination of numbness to go along with it.